


Unfinished WIP: MadaSaku - Mada-Sensei

by moor



Series: Tumblr writing practice [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:11:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: Eventual MadaSaku. Madara is Team Seven's sensei





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Many thanks to fineillsignup for her fantastic MadaSaku comic translations, and to MAOQ for her gorgeous MadaSaku illustrations! This story was directly inspired by photos from MAOQ's Pixiv account.
> 
> AN: VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: This story was not written in a linear manner. Some chapters will be out of order in the timeline.

Sakura knocked on the door of her sensei's room at the inn before entering at his call, automatically covering her eyes with her small hand.

An amused chuckle met her ears and her cheeks pinked at the deep reverberations.

"I'm decent," he drawled.

Pursing her lips, Sakura let her pinky drop just enough to check whether her sensei was wearing pants.

Long, bare, masculine feet peeked through.

"No you're not!"

He laughed. "Look higher," he said.

Pressing her lips together a bit more, she lifted her pinky and her ring finger.

Black trousers wrapped around long, lean, muscular legs. She held her breath as she lifted a third finger. A belt! He'd even done up his belt that day!

So relieved was she that she let out a sigh and dropped her hand—

—only to 'eep!' adorably and slap both hands over her burning face when her sensei stretched his chiselled torso and pulled his undershirt down over his abdomen.

"Sensei!" she gasped. "You're a very bad person!"

"Sakura, I'm dressed. And it's nothing you haven't seen before. During the team swimming training we were all wearing bathing suits—"

"This is improper!"

Madara shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from teasing her further.

"Are the boys up?" he asked, standing and slipping on his shinobi sandals.

"Yes. And next time I'll ask them to come get you!" she said indignantly, backing away with one hand waving behind her to help her find the doorframe. Her other hand remained clapped firmly over her virgin eyes.

As she bumped and stumbled out of her sensei's room, Madara watched her fondly before getting up and following her.

He hadn't believed Izuna when he'd suggested Madara take on a genin team, but he was coming around to it.


	2. 2

_**A year later** _

He'd seen the stress lines in her young face deepening all day, the bags that never disappeared. While she refused to complain, he noticed her lagging further and further behind as she struggled (more than usual) to keep up to him and the boys as they ran through the forest. Out of stubborn pride she would have pushed herself to keep going yet this mission she would take every opportunity to sit on a tree branch or lean against the tree trunks they raced through.

Out of the corner of his eye as Sasuke and Naruto took a turn preparing supper for the night as they made camp, Madara saw Sakura leaning over a bush on the far side of their clearing. Then she shuddered and emptied her stomach, grabbing onto the bush's extended branch to brace herself. Yet she did it so quietly he almost would have missed it if it hadn't been for the sudden violence of her small body heaving.

She was hiding it from him and the boys.

Poison? He wondered as he forced himself to remain calm and approached her. Was she injured? She was too young to be…

He shook himself. Absolutely not.

He wouldn't allow that, he thought to himself protectively. There would be Hell to pay if anyone dared touch a member of his young team.

"Sakura," he murmured as he joined her side.

Letting out a choked 'eep!' again, Sakura glanced up at her sensei with wide, fearful eyes and pink cheeks.

"What is wrong?"

"Uh, n-nothing!"

His dark brows furrowed. "You are ill," he said, reaching out to hold her shoulder as he lay his wrist over her forehead. "Are you in pain? Do you need a medic?"

Sakura shook her head harder. "No. It's… it will pass."

He frowned at her.

"If you are ill we cannot continue. You should rest."

Sakura groaned in her throat, blushing harder. "No, sensei it's not…" She sighed as her face fell into her hands. "It's just… uncomfortable."

At her burning face and ears, some part of the situation finally clued in.

Oh.

On a certain level he'd expected this. Several kunoichi had even approached him to remind him to keep spare supplies on hand for Sakura, just in case. But facing the reality of his precious student suffering and being casually made aware of her circumstances were two entirely different things. That the condition made Sakura so unwell she was forced to throw up (from pain, he was realizing) was completely unacceptable. He would not have his students suffer needlessly. (A bit of teasing and as a lesson every so often to teach them were one thing. He had never enjoyed seeing the needless suffering of those he cared for.)

Recalling a jutsu he'd seen his father use when he was a young child, Madara awkwardly called forth the jutsu that warmed his palm and moved it from Sakura's shoulder to her lower back.

"Is… is this better?" he asked, but Sakura was already sinking into the comforting heat.

"Oh yes," she sighed, shoulders slumping with relief.

Watching the tight lines of her face relax, Madara observed how tightly she kept her arms crossed around her middle.

"Come to the fire," he said, scooping her up before giving her a chance to reply. "Sit," he ordered when she tried to squirm away.

With that he plopped himself down on a warm stone, a squawking Sakura curled up in his lap. Then he proceeded to cast the jutsu on both his hands and placed one on her back and the other over her swollen abdomen.

The moment his warm hands settled on her sore body she softened in his arms and curled up in his arms, her head slipping back against his chest with a tiny moan of relief.

"Oy!" called Naruto. "What are you doing to Sakura-chan, pervy-sensei!"

Sakura tensed tighter than a bow string in his lap and the quip Madara had planned died in his throat. Ah. She was uncomfortable with the subject.

"Rewarding her for not pushing you out of a tree," he replied instead. "Sit still," he ordered the young woman in his lap. "Here?" he asked more quietly, moving his hand around over her tummy.

"A b-bit lower," she said, her shoulders rising to her ears in her embarrassment. With a tentative grasp she shifted his large hand lower on her belly where she really needed it, letting out a soft sigh. "There."

Then, half a breath later, a whispered:

"Thank you, sensei."

"Hn," he murmured, channelling a bit more chakra to his hands.

It wasn't long before Sakura's exhausted body gave in to its needs and she fell into a deep sleep, her small puffs of breath tickling his long hair as it fell over his shoulder.

His features softened as he felt her body relax in his arms.

Then he felt the critical gaze of his other two students on his back and glanced over his shoulder.

"Hn?"

Sasuke shook his head in disgust while Naruto glared at Madara in consternation.

Idiots, he decided. They should have realized something was wrong with their teammate. He would speak to them another time, away from Sakura so as not to embarrass her further.

When he realized Sakura would not be waking anytime soon, Madara ruefully cast the Kage Bunshin no Jutsu—screw the fact Tobirama had come up with it, he had to protect his team. He sent the shadow clone to supervise Naruto and Sasuke and stand guard while he remained cocooned around Sakura.


	3. 3

_In the village_

The squabble was louder now that he was closer to the action, though still concealed behind the henge. No one would pay a 'little old man' like him any attention as he crossed the road and approached the group of genin and chunin surrounding Sakura.

Where were her idiot teammates? He frowned as he noticed the boys had gone off (likely to spar again) and left her on her own.

Still, he paused. He couldn't interfere, not without inadvertently insulting her. As a kunoichi Sakura had to learn how to fight her own could do it. He knew she could. She would be an amazing kunoichi if only she'd accept and use the confidence he knew she harboured deep within her. Because he knew she held that indomitable inner strength it goaded and frustrated him to see her backing down from casual village bullies.

… which meant he would have to come down on her even harder in practice. She had to learn to harness her strengths and put others in their place.

No member of his team would bow to a lesser.

His sharp eyes narrowed as his chin dipped low.

The insults had turned to shoving. The deepest insecurities Sakura held were publicly exposed and mocked. Madara's jaw clenched when Sakura brought her fists up but held them too close to her chest.

_Fight_ , he thought fiercely.

Her head was yanked to the side as another youth grabbed her hair and she grit her teeth, still refusing to defend herself.

Shame, for himself and for Sakura, filled Madara. Self-loathing, embarrassment and shared impotence. Had she not learned anything from him? Had he overprotected her so much she couldn't fend off any of her attackers?

"Not so strong now without your sensei around, are you?" sneered one shinobi.

"No wonder the rest of your team avoids you. You're one of those kunoichi who'll never see a real battle. You know what you're good for?"

"Stop it!" whimpered Sakura, fists clenched.

"Madara is wasted on clan-less garbage like you," scoffed another, spitting at Sakura.

"I hope your back's strong since that's where you'll be spending your 'career'."

Madara's nostrils flared. That kind of talk was completely inappropriate for genin and chunin—even in battle he refrained from such disgusting remarks, finding them beneath him and his opponent—and he did step in then.

—only for one of the genin to shove him out of the way with a sneer.

"Steer clear, old man. Go back to the bath house."

Madara bared his teeth then, preparing to cancel the henge and reveal himself when a tiny fist suddenly rocketed past his ear and punched the offender straight through his nose, sending him flying arse over tea kettle to slam against the wall on the opposite side of the alley.

"Don't talk to senior citizens that way!" blazed Sakura, eyes murderous. "A shinobi's way is to protect the village!" She turned to Madara, expression gentling. "Are you alright, sir?"

Madara didn't get the chance to reply when another pair of hands grabbed him from behind and tried to throw him to the ground.

Those two went flying, following their leader.

And so it went. One, two, three. As quickly as they arrived they were dispatched. Anytime someone laid a hand on him, there was Sakura, a tiny storm of dynamite fists and unbottled rage, defending him and protecting him from the bullies she wouldn't even raise her voice to.

By the end of it she stood before him, chest heaving with harsh panting, knuckles bloody, arms strong and her battle chi an inferno of protection and loyalty to her village credo.

Her green eyes widened and fell upon his henge form at last, her brows dipping on the outside.

"Sir? Are you alright?" she repeated. Her expression gentled as she reached out for him, taking his hand and placing it in the crook of her elbow. "I'll walk you home," she said firmly. "We need to look after our citizens," she said with a determined smile. "Do you have a family? Anyone to get home to? We don't want to worry them."

"No one worries about me, but thank you for your concern, dear," he said. In his heart he felt the warmth and pride swell. This was his student. This was his Sakura.

Deciding not to cancel his henge quite yet, Madara kept up the pretense of his 'old man' personae until they got to the nearest shopping arcade. He patted her hand.

"I'm just fine from here," he said.

"Okay, if you're sure," she said as she looked around. "You be careful out there. Some people try to take advantage of kindness and… perceived frailty. Don't let them get away with it," she said firmly. "If they try, just tell me. I'll take care of it for you."

Madara stared at his favourite student; how to get her to understand that same advice applied to her, too?

And then she leaned in close and said, from behind her hand, "And anyone I can't handle, my sensei will. He's the best shinobi in all the Five Nations."

Then she smiled at him and gave him a wink.

"Take care, and have a good evening!"

With a wave she released his arm and went on her way, her scuffed clothing and messy hair completely forgotten.

… her gait proud, her steps confident.

Madara watched her go.

_And mentally planned a dozen lessons on how to get her to stand up for herself the way she stood up for others._


	4. 4

Observing his team sparring, Madara's mind whirred with possibilities.

What did Sakura do better than the boys?

He needed to find a way to build her confidence up and show her she had her own talents to take pride in—that the boys did not share.

On the training ground, she spun suddenly on her heel and slipped through a gap between Sasuke and the shadow clone Naruto had sent her way before dropping down and hook-kicking Sasuke behind the knee, temporarily throwing him off-balance. Sasuke was an adept shinobi and his taijutsu skills were nothing to scoff at however, and he recovered by continuing his momentum into a spin of his own before landing in a solid stance and slashing at her with a katon jutsu.

She can dodge, but she needs to be more cut-throat about it, Madara decided. He turned to see how her spar with Naruto was going.

Still dodging the blond's attacks and striking him with her own. She had strength but needed more control, he noted.

And then she backflipped out of Naruto's reach when he began powering up a jutsu Madara had told him three times that day not to use because he had zero control over it. Madara was already racing to get between them and blast Naruto through the ground when Naruto unleashed the wind attack and Sakura suddenly disappeared.

"Idiot!" roared Madara, moving like a man possessed.

Irrationally angry, Madara seized Naruto by the scruff of his neck and shook him before throwing him to the side as his eyes darted left and right searching for Sakura. For once, Naruto calmed immediately and watched Madara, realising how recklessly he had just endangered his teammate.

The log hit the ground in front of Madara before he caught sight of Sakura from the corner of his eye, skating across the river a hundred yards away before bounding up onto shore and leaping into a tree, still avoiding Naruto's potential attack that had gone wild. Nimbly she leapt from branch to branch, up and down the tree trunks, sometimes even upside down, before she caught Madara's eye and slowed, then joined he and Naruto on the ground again. Off to the side, Sasuke narrowed his eyes and made his way towards their sensei, too.

Mastery of chakra control, realized Madara. She didn't even look winded by the chakra she'd just expended to increase her speed and agility and defy gravity. She may not have the reserves Naruto or Sasuke had, but her efficiency and control were the best he'd seen in any genin outside perhaps…

_Hn_.

He frowned.

"Sensei?" asked Sakura upon seeing his moue of displeasure. "What did I do wrong?"

"Hn."

He turned his back to his students.

"Twenty laps around Konoha and return here tomorrow," he said, walking away.

"What! Twenty—"

"Thirty," corrected Madara, cutting Naruto's indignant cry off before he could go into another ridiculous tirade. Sakura never complained about extra work. Sasuke would merely glare at him, and really, Madara had been immune to Sasuke's petulance since he'd watched the boy toddle around in diapers and poo on his clan members.

With his usual stride he made his way to the Hokage Tower and climbed the stairs, dreading the encounter he was about to have.

With a deep inhale and a pinched exhale, Madara knocked and waited to be admitted to the Hokage's private office.

"Come in!" called Hashirama. He looked up when Madara joined him, closing the door behind him.

Madara crossed his arms and tensed as Hashirama's face blossomed into its usual over-exuberant… ugh.

He couldn't believe he was doing this.

"Madara!"

She would owe him dearly for this.

Ignorant of, or ignoring, Madara's reluctance, Hashirama chattered on. "Come! Sit with me and catch up! How are things going with your team! Stay a while!"

With a final self-loathing step he sank down into the overly plushy chairs Hashirama so favoured, trying not to grimace at how they cushioned his backside. Couldn't the man have a nice hard bench instead? Hashirama was half old-woman already. Was that a doily on the man's desk?

"Tea?" asked Hashirama, already pouring hot water from the kettle in the corner of the room.

More than half. Three-quarters, decided Madara.

"No."

Hashirama ignored him and placed a cup of tea in front of Madara anyway. "So, what's new with you?"

Madara glared at him.

"Hmmmmm," nodded Hashirama. "I know that face. That's the 'I'm all-powerful Uchiha Madara and bow to no one and yet need a favour from my best friend Hashirama'-face. Hmmmmmm."

Kami, he hated it when Hashirama read him so easily.

"So, what can I do for you?" smiled Hashirama. Then, steepling his fingers, he added, "and what are you willing to do for it?"

Forcing his jaw to loosen before it seized in place, Madara sat back in his seat and tried to relax.

"Tsuna. Will she take on apprentices?"

Hashirama blinked, his head tilting to the side like a curious bird.

"Tsuna? Tsunade?"

Madara nodded once.

Silence stretched between them.

Then Hashirama's lips spread into a wide grin… and Madara's heart sank.

The things I do for my students, he groused internally.

By the following week, Sakura was apprenticed to the best healer in not only Konoha, but all the Five Nations.

Madara told himself he was proud of her. Yet the tension in his chest didn't ease when she promised him from beside her new mentor,

"I'll be back for practice, sensei!"

Then, with a glance at Tsunade, she raced back to Madara and flung her arms around his middle, burying her face in his chest.

"Thank you, sensei," she breathed before giving him a blinding smile and chasing after Tsunade again with a wave his way.

He lifted a hand in goodbye as he watched the two women disappear around the corner.

… it was several days later when he heard from Hashirama—in a secluded clearing in the forest, away from the rest of the village—that Tsunade had taken Sakura from the village and that they would be travelling for some time while Sakura trained.


	5. 5

"I feel," began Hashirama one breezy afternoon as the warm air blew wisps of his long, chocolate hair.

"Hn." (Madara paid him less attention than he normally would a fly.)

"I feel that you're enduring a conflict," continued Hashirama with a gentle sway. "And that it is affecting you, old friend."

"Hn."

"Personally."

Madara maintained his lax supervision of Naruto and Sasuke as they bickered on the training ground a dozen meters away while the adults conversed.

"Deeply," added Hashirama.

"You're mistaken."

Suspended upside down from the tree limb where Madara had strung him up, his arms crossed over his chest, Hashirama nodded as the blood continued to rush to his head. "I think there is some merit to my concern. Does this have to do with Sakura's apprenticeship?"

"Irrelevant." Madara's arms were crossed over his own chest as he actively ignored the half-hearted pummeling Naruto and Sasuke were giving each other.

For his part, Hashirama took in the scene as his brows drew together pensively. "There's something different about those two," he remarked.

Madara pretended not to hear Hashirama as he considered what kind of mission he could look into for his reduced team. Not that they deserved one, but he felt like getting out of the village for a bit. Roaming around. Seeing what was out there. Investigating… things.

"Madara," began Hashirama, to which Madara gave a small sigh of acknowledgement. "Madara, I think I know what happened."

"Hn."

"I think you got sick of Naruto and Sasuke constantly trying to one-up each other via power-ups instead of strategy and you decided to teach them a lesson that would force them to consider another's perspective."

"Ah."

Their quiet contemplation extended another half a minute before Hashirama cleared his throat and asked, with an awkward inflection,

"The, uh, effects of the jutsu will wear off eventually, I take it? Sasuke's family were quite… surprised by the change."

Madara glanced over at the pair of kunoichi. One blond, the other dark-haired. They bickered on, ignoring Madara and Hashirama.

"Six to eight weeks," Madara replied, unperturbed.

"Ah, six to eight weeks! Six…  _six to eight weeks!?_ " gasped Hashirama, dangling wildly. "If they remain in feminine bodies for that long, they could…"

A ghost of a cruel smirk lit the corners of Madara's lips before he purred, "Hn."

And a wave of understanding washed over Hashirama. In spite of the blood pooling in his skull.

"... Oh."


	6. 6

"And now for the female potential graduates," said Hashirama, ignoring the soft sighs around him in his office.

"Mariko-chan?" read out Hashirama from his list. His feet were propped up on his desk as he balanced his pen in one hand and held the clipboard in the other.

"Will likely fail. Pair her against a non-lethal so they do not feel the need to overcompensate in their battle," counselled Tobirama.

"Ino-chan?" continued Hashirama, making a note beside Mariko's name.

"Will be able to potentially get inside an enemy's head to figure out their strategy," said Tobirama.

"Is her opponent able to reverse the technique to see inside hers?" asked Hashirama, glancing up at his brother.

"The Yamanakas do not share such specific details about their clan jutsu, as it could be seen to offer a weakness to overcome it," said Tobirama. "Best to partner her with someone from within Konoha, just in case."

Hashirama nodded, making another note on his clipboard. "Agreed. See, this isn't so hard! Now, who's next?... Dum de dum dum…. Aha! Little Sakura-chan! Oh, we don't want to get our little precious mini-Tsunade hurt, so we should—"

"Pair her up against the most bloodthirsty Grass-nin coming to the exams," demanded Madara, speaking up for the first time. "Her opponent should be at least four times her size, possibly a failed recruit looking for retribution. Heavily weaponized."

Hashirama's pen froze in midair as he stared at his advisor, aghast.

Madara nodded, rubbing his chin deep in thought. "We should also advise Tsunade she is to attend the exams."

"To coach Sakura-chan's corpse to the sidelines," asked Tobirama, "As you intend to see her slaughtered?"

Madara ignored Tobirama's snippy tone, tilting his chin at Hashirama. "We'll need someone to heal the opponent once Sakura's done with them," he advised.

Hashirama just stared at Madara.

Madara went back to ignoring them both.

* * *

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?"

The ancient wood creaked and groaned as Tsunade slammed her fist down onto Hashirama's desk, the walls shuddering and windowsills splintering at their joints at the impact.

From her fist unravelled a crumpled paper—one of the proposed chunin exam rosters that he had circulated to several top-level, confidential advisors for feedback for minor amendments.

Hashirama, beloved Hokage, felt his balls shrivel up and his jovial laugh died in his throat as he looked up into Tsunade's burning glare. He wasn't sure how Tsuna-chan had received a copy, though, as he'd thought it very important she  _not know_  (yet) how he had been connived into putting her precious protégé into mortal peril and possibly certain death therein.

"Is there a problem?  _ **Wedraftedthisincommittee**_ ," he added quickly.

"This? This is who you intend to pit Sakura against in the chunin exams!"

Hashirama forced a smile, wetting his lips. "You see, we feel—and by 'we', I mean Uchiha Madara—"

"This is a disgrace!"

"Ah, yes, but—"

"You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"I am unbearably aggrieved, yes—"

"How could you, as Hokage, in good faith—"

"I will see us all flogged—" promised Hashirama desperately.

"Put Sakura up against only one person? She's going to clobber that poor bastard, he'll have no idea who he's going up against! At least give him a team to support him when you unleash her, really!"

Hashirama froze, mouth gaping.

"Whaa?..."

"Honestly, thank goodness you at least chose one of the more dangerous ones to pit her against," the buxom blonde snorted, crossing her arms. "I smell Madara's hand in this." She huffed. "At least someone's got their head on straight."

She stared down at Hashirama one final time before spinning on her four-inch heels and flouncing from the Hokage's office, her nose in the air.

"Make sure you give my apprentice a better challenge next time!" she shouted, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

**(A month later)**

As she watched her name appear on the monitor, Sakura felt her heart race. It was finally her turn!

Her cheeks hurt from smiling as she saw her determined face pop up beneath her name, the crowd cheering for her.

… then she felt her heart sink as not one, not two, but three names—names she recognized from the Bingo Book—appeared across from hers, accompanied by their own photos. Each more dangerous than the last.

Jaw clenching, she looked up at the Hokage with fire in her eyes. He'd done this to her.

(Catching Sakura glaring at him, Hashirama flinched and shrank back in his seat in the stands.)

Tightening her gloves and punching one fist into the other, Sakura lowered her chin and glared at her opponents.

(In the stands, watching from above)

"Teme, did you just feel that icy shiver run down your spine?" whispered Naruto, grabbing at Sasuke's arm.

"No. Shut up, Dobe," muttered Sasuke. But he didn't shake him off, either.

* * *

"You're far too calm," commented one elder, seated behind Madara.

"There is nothing to be concerned about with this match," replied Madara, taking a sip of tea.

Yet his eyes were riveted to Sakura's tiny form on the ground of the stadium.


	7. 7

"You're not distracting me with that again, are you? I'm not a genin any more," said Sakura. She hadn't looked up from the chart in her hand, but knew her patient was deliberately baiting her for a reaction, specifically because he was being so silent—

—while sitting shirtless in her private office instead of the patient examination room her triage nurse had directed him to.

When he didn't reply, she huffed mildly and mentally prayed for patience.

"Your chart doesn't list a reason for your visit," she stated, finally glancing up at him.

Her eyes widened and she swallowed a curse.

"You should have mentioned it was your Sharingan!"

"This cannot leave this office," Madara stated, voice clipped and somewhat… tired?

Sakura's brows drew together as her healing chakra glowed between her palms.

To be in so much pain he didn't even attempt to sass her back? This wasn't like her former sensei at all. She stood between his knees, ignoring his usual barrier of personal space, and touched her hands directly to the skin of his temples. Her thumbs rested just beneath his bleeding eyes.

"What happened," she asked, immediately sending a soothing, relaxing frequency of energy through the pain receptors of his ocular nerves. She tried to reduce his inflammation next, but the damage was extensive. "All information is kept confidential and is used strictly for the purposes of diagnosis and treatment," she relayed to him, trying to loosen his tongue. If there was a more reticent bastard than Uchiha Madara in the village, it was a mystery. Well, except for perhaps Tobirama. But she wasn't going to dip a toe in the dark waters between those two shinobi. She had her hands full of the one in front of her. Literally.

When the silence stretched, Sakura pulled away from Madara a moment to visually inspect him for other, outward trauma—until he reached up calmly and caught her wrists in his large hands, holding them to his cheeks. Immediately and instinctively she released more soothing chakra into his system and was surprised at the soft sigh of release that slipped between his lips.

"A moment," he requested, letting his eyes close fully.

Unhappy at the delay but sensing he needed a moment to compose himself, Sakura waited. Unconsciously she leaned into him to listen to his quiet voice. His grasp on her wrists flexed as she did so, and Sakura looked over his face carefully to try and read his expression. When he leaned forward, slumped really, his shoulders rounding as his proud carriage faltered with the relief of her soothing chakra, she let her own shoulders relax.

"You're exhausted," she said with gentle reproach. "You should listen to your students more, you know. When was the last time you ate a proper meal? Or slept a full eight hours?"

Madara grunted softly and Sakura shook her head at him. "You need a keeper. Hasn't anyone in your clan stepped up to assist you?"

"None of your concern," he murmured in a gravelly voice.

"It's my concern when it affects my team. My medical team," she clarified. They hadn't been on a team together… in… She turned her focus back to his enraged ocular nerves, shifting her weight to her other foot. Her private office didn't have anti-fatigue mats on the floor like the regular examination rooms and she'd chosen fancier shoes than she would normally wear as she wasn't due on rounds for another hour or so. Normally fine for working at her desk, but not for remaining on her feet for long periods of time. She wouldn't waste her chakra healing her aching calves, either, before she started on those rounds. Her patients needed her at optimal performance level… which she obviously wouldn't be in, either, if Madara was going to be visiting her during her office hours like this.

"How long has it been like this?" she asked instead, focusing on the injury.

"Several weeks or months. It was temporary and became permanently irritated approximately six weeks ago," he answered.

"How have you been hiding this for a month and a half?"

"The clan has been… busy," he replied.

Ah. So he was using clan business as an excuse to sequester himself. She wanted to bash his head in.

"Next time, just stop by my apartment in the evening," Sakura sighed. "I can untangle this now, but it would be better to do it before you go to sleep at night so that your eyes can rest and recuperate for five to seven hours after."

To her surprise, instead of refuting her offer Madara's grasp shifted on her wrists from one of support to cup her hands, in humble gratitude.

"The clan cannot know," he said.

Sakura snorted. "You'll have to make up a good excuse if they find out you're coming to my place after hours." She grinned at him, since his eyes were still closed and he wouldn't see her cheeky expression. "If anyone asks, I'll tell them you're a tiger in bed," she mock-whispered, before giggling.

To her surprise, Madara chuckled low in his throat before stroking her hands. His features relaxed somewhat in mirth.

"Ah. Thank you," he murmured, his lips twisted wryly.

"Anytime, Mada-sensei," Sakura replied, smoothing her thumbs across his cheeks before closing her eyes and missing the flash of expression across his features. "Now, don't fight me on this, but if you aren't able to get six hours of uninterrupted rest at home, I'd rather you remained overnight at my place in the guest room." She added, "Mostly because even ANBU can't crack my wards."

"How are you summoned for emergencies or missions?" he asked. In case he needed to be contacted, it would be best for him to have some means of communication while at Sakura's. If he took her up on it.

"Ah, well, there are two individuals who know how to get through. And they're pretty choosy gatekeepers to begin with," she added.

He groaned low in his throat.

"Those two," he muttered.

Sakura smiled. Some things never changed, she thought.

They made quiet conversation here and there for the remaining session. Through the entire healing, Madara's hands never left hers.


	8. 8

The smoke was getting thicker as Madara roared, charging through the latest round of shinobi who’d lay siege to the small village he’d been sent to protect. The summons for help had come a week ago, singed along its edges and mostly illegible. The summon that had carried it had barely survived, popping out of existence as soon as it delivered its missive to the Hokage, the note the only trace of its existence.

That didn’t bode well for the survival of the human life it was attached to.

But Madara and his team had raced against time. But this was no ordinary enemy.

“Sound,” he’d spat, recognizing the lab-bred monsters and demons that assaulted the now-crumbling walls that protected the small, isolated village.

What could this small village hold that that sick bastard Orochimaru wanted so dearly he would risk deliberately antagonizing Leaf for?

Who had been brave enough, intelligent enough, to find a way to get the message through to Konoha?

And who, who could possibly have been strong enough to protect an entire village from Sound for an entire week?

A surprise attack from the side had him spinning on his heel, flying through the air as he leapt up and brought his hands together at his mouth, unleashing a monstrous fireball, a signature Uchiha technique, at the enemy even as his Mangekyou Sharingan pinwheeled and the night sky lit with the force of the jutsu.

The blast shot through the wave of enemy Sound nin, sending them screaming and burning in all directions—

—and suddenly there came an explosion from the village walls, blasting them open. The villagers had taken advantage of Madara’s attack to blow a hole in their last defence and charge the enemy with scythes, pitchforks, hoes, and whatever half-decent farming implements they had at their disposal. Leading them was a young woman, a vaguely familiar kunoichi whose presence suddenly enthralled him like nothing ever had. Her hair was tied back beneath a headscarf, her mouth wide as she screamed her battle cry, and she raced forward and attacking the remaining Sound nin with a double-headed axe.

A tingling ran through Madara at that moment, an unearthly awakening of something inside him. It was frightening and invigorating and threatened to overwhelm him in its sheer insistence that he acknowledge it, yet he didn’t know what to acknowledge, only that it was.

Unconsciously, Madara ran towards her, towards her makeshift militia, every fibre of his being renewed with energy and faith and a strange twisting inside him he couldn’t explain.

Summoning more clones, Madara lay the groundwork for a last jutsu, one to rain hellfire down upon the enemy nin.

It was a forbidden jutsu, of course, for it could wipe out an entire village.

But with the right control, it would protect this one.

His Sharingan spun as he brought his hands to his mouth again.

This one was worth protecting above all else.

The entire sky lit with the jutsu, and he felt the air rushing from his lungs as he unleashed it.

The screams.

The confusion.

Then the cheers.

The kunoichi’s forest-green eyes widening in recognition as they caught his.

—then there was darkness.

“… ada-sensei…?”

The words were faint as Madara dropped to the ground, but he grasped at them, clutching at them with weak fingers. Everything was weak. Everything was dark.

For all jutsu had a cost, especially the forbidden ones.


	9. 9

When Madara woke he found himself in a strange bedroom. It was airy and light, the blankets covering him were warm and the mattress cradled him snugly. The plants branching out on the shelves around the room were varied and leafy, ridiculously healthy in their environment and well-cared for. The bedside table held a fresh jug of water and a glass, along with a small stack of books. Some of his favourite authors, he noted.

“You’re awake.”

Her voice.

HER voice.

The twisting in his chest snugged a little closer to his heart and he turned to look at the woman who had been sleeping in a chair and slumped over his bed further down towards his hand… which she was still holding.

As she caught sight of his focus, she immediately released him.

She straightened, tucking her messy pink hair behind her ear.

Her smile lit up the room, even as he took in the dark bags sagging beneath her sunken eyes, the sallow tint to her should-have-been rosy, healthy face. Her clothes were stained, burned, and smelled.

“How are you feeling?” Sakura asked. Her voice was soft, quiet, rough. There were smudges, trails really, beneath her eyes and down her dirty cheeks.

But it was her.

“Well,” said Madara.

Her left shoulder sagged and she shook her head, regarding him with wry amusement.

“You liar,” she chuckled.

His hand warmed as she took it again, perhaps unconsciously.

“Good to have you back with us, Mada-sensei,” she said, her eyes shining.

She pressed her lips together as they trembled.

Then she swallowed.

Swallowed again, looked again, but turned back to him because she couldn’t stand not looking at him and him reacting to her.

When she tried to cover her gasp with a cough, he knew.

When she began shaking, her head falling forward to hide her face from him, he knew.

When she squeezed his hand so hard, trying to catch her breath, he knew.

And when she broke out in sobs, he took her in his arms and held her, and he knew.

“Shhhhhhhhh,” he soothed.

“S-so scared,” she said, shuddering.

“You did it. You saved the village,” he murmured, holding her and running his hand through her hair. “You did it.”

She had. She had done it all. She had not only saved the village, she had saved him, too.

Which only proved what he’d long suspected. That she no longer needed him anymore.

The knife in his chest twinged bittersweet.

But kami, it hurt. It hurt so much.

Then he felt her small fist banging on his chest even as she clutched at the loose gi tied around him.

“N-no! About y-you!”

“Hn?” His brows furrowed.

“I was scared I was going to lose you, you s-stupid s-sensei!” she cried, bursting into fresh tears. “Don’t ever do that again,” she begged. “Ever.”

Still confused, and quite tired, Madara leaned back—when had he sat up? He must have done it when she fell across him—and closed his eyes, resting his hand atop Sakura’s head as she cried into his chest.

“Shhhhh,” he repeated, his words slurring together as sleep captured him once more. “Shhhhh…”

With the last of his awareness, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms to lie along his larger frame. Immediately the twisting in his heart eased, relaxed and fell silent.

In fact, his entire body relaxed.

He drifted to sleep again as Sakura’s hiccups quieted and she relaxed against him in return.

It was some hours later when Hashirama entered his guest room, Tobirama at his side, to find the pair still holding each other.

Hashirama sighed while Tobirama frowned.

“I can hear you scowling, Tobi,” murmured Madara, opening one eye. Yet he remained relaxed and still, unwilling to risk waking Sakura.

“She is too good for you,” said Tobirama, folding his arms across his chest. He, too, spoke quietly.

Madara just glared at him.

Then, to all their surprise, he sighed. “Yes,” admitted Madara, sounding tired. Bone tired, in fact. Like his emotions had run out and he didn’t know how to wind them back in again.

Hashirama glanced at his brother before back to Madara again.

“I think it would be best if we made… arrangements… for Sakura,” murmured Madara. He listened carefully to Sakura’s deep, even breaths for any hint she would wake.

“She waited on you for days,” said Hashirama gently.

“She shouldn’t have,” said Madara.

Tobirama’s eyes narrowed, but Hashirama lifted a hand to still his brother.

“What are you thinking?” asked Hashirama.

Madara glared at Tobirama for a second before Tobirama returned the favour. With a sigh, Hashirama gave his brother a look.

Without a word, Tobirama left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Sakura has no family any longer,” said Madara.

Unconsciously his fingers stroked her hair, soothing.

Not missing a beat, Hashirama nodded.

“I would like to arrange a marriage for her,” said Madara, forcing the words out. “I want her taken care of.”

“Madara,” began Hashirama, but Madara ignored his protests.

“With Tobirama,” said Madara.

All the words dried up in Hashirama’s throat. All he could manage was a breath, a simple, “Madara…”

But Madara had lifted his eyes to the ceiling before closing them, still stroking Sakura’s hair.

“He’ll do as you say. And… he loves her,” said Madara.

His fingers caught in her hair, and a muscle ticked in his cheek.

Hashirama watched his best friend, his almost-brother, and his throat tightened. There was no arguing with him on some things. This was one of those things.

“I can ask him. But I won’t make him,” said Hashirama. “That wouldn’t be fair to either of them.”

Madara made a soft, rumbling sound in his throat.

“He won’t say no,” the Uchiha said, after a minute.

No, Hashirama knew Tobirama wouldn’t deny it, either.

“Anything you need at the moment?” asked Hashirama.

Madara let out a low, gentle breath, adjusting himself slightly beneath Sakura.

To his surprise, Hashirama approached and pulled a blanket from the closet, laying it across Sakura and tucking her in with a fond look in his eye.

“No,” replied Madara as Hashirama pulled away. “I need nothing.”

Hashirama had the sense to hold his tongue. Though it was difficult when he wanted nothing better than to say, “Because you have everything you need in your arms right now, you stupid idiot.”

“Get some rest,” said Hashirama, closing the door behind him when he left.


End file.
